In the Record Books

From left to right: Bob Vogel, Steve Ackerman, Mark Wellman. Photo: L.D. Schell

Bob Vogel had no other options left except to drag his paralyzed legs up the sandy trail. Unable to ride his bike, he dug his fists into the dirt, lifted his body from the ground and dragged his legs, moving only inches with each effort. Vogel didn't even leave his bike behind--he pulled it alongside as he slowly made his way up the trail.

Vogel then threw a climbing rope down the trail where two other riders waited, and with all his arm strength, pulled on the rope, which was tied to one of the rider's bikes to help him make it up the sandy trail that was too deep to ride. Then the rope was tossed down to the third rider, and the strenuous process was repeated. The situation the riders found themselves in did not surprise them, however. This was simply part of the ride.

Photo: L.D. Schell

When a group of three paraplegic mountain bikers headed out to complete the 105-mile White Rim Trail in Utah, nothing but their determination and commitment to the ride was certain. With no paraplegic cyclist having ever completed the famous trail in the heart of Canyonlands National Park, the question of whether it could be done lay somewhere in the back of many people's minds.

The group--consisting of Mark Wellman, 44; Steve Ackerman, 49; and Bob Vogel, 43--would attempt to complete the trail under their own power in six days. Non-disabled riders usually complete the trail in three or four days, although some cyclists can ride the century in one day.

The ride began from the parking lot at the White Rim trailhead, and as Wellman asked the question, "You guys ready?" the three began pedaling their handcycles with excitement and anticipation of the experience that lay ahead.

Bob Vogel, pedaling through some of the sand that made their ride so difficult. Photo: L.D. Schell

They covered 27 miles on a long descent into the canyon, passing red rock cliffs, natural arches and sandstone pillars. "For me it was like an amusement park. I'd look back at a switchback section and want to do it again," said Ackerman, who was paralyzed in 1987 after his car slid off the road while driving in a snowstorm. The ride would prove to be more difficult throughout the next five days as different trials were faced and physical energy depleted with each day.

On climbs, the riders would often confront ledges and technical sections, which they couldn't simply jump over like riders on conventional mountain bikes. The 20-speed handcycles they rode, built by Mike Augspurger of One-Off Titanium, have two wheels in the front and one wider wheel in the back, and the riders sit with their chests against a plate that faces the ground. The plate rotates side-to-side, steering the bike with the rider's body movement, and in this position, it's nearly impossible to lift more than one of the front wheels off the ground at a time. Even though the handcycle has its limitations, Vogel realized that, "Without the special bike, the trip would have been impossible."

Photo: L.D. Schell

Though the handcycles made the ride possible, the three encountered challenges along the way. In one section, Ackerman's rear wheel spun out when trying to get over a steep rock ledge. He kept hammering down on the pedals, trying to hit the ledge at different angles, but he still had no success. Wellman sat on a bike behind him, and seeing that Ackerman would probably not be able get over the obstacle, asked if he wanted the rock chaps to drag himself up the ledge.

With pure frustration in his voice, Ackerman stared at the ledge and said, "I'm not using f---ing rock chaps. This is a bike ride."

"Well, once in awhile you've got to get out and crawl," responded Wellman. Still reluctant to get off the handcycle, Ackerman began to build a ramp by piling rocks in front of the ledge, but it was still too steep. As the other riders used a different route, Ackerman kept trying until he realized it was taking too much time, and called for a rope to help him. "I don't want to hold up the group anymore," he said, disappointed.

Some other steep sections, however, could be ridden with sheer power. As the riders sat on their bikes, looking up at a climb littered with small ledges and loose, fist-sized rocks, they let out some of the air pressure in their rear tires to gain better traction. As Vogel began the incline, Wellman yelled out, "Do it, brother." Vogel pedaled through the steepest and most technical sections, and then helped the other riders by pulling on the rope to help them keep their momentum.

"The whole thing was about a team effort," said Wellman, who became paralyzed in a climbing accident when he was 22 years old. He continues to mountain climb and has become the first paraplegic to climb El Capitan, in California's Yosemite National Park, and the only paraplegic to climb Half Dome, also in Yosemite.

At the end of the sixth day, on November 1, the ride came to an end. Vogel described the last few miles of the ride as bittersweet: "We were sad it was over. Even some of the most painful parts were some of the greatest feelings I've ever had. We'd stop and look around and say, 'There's no other place I'd rather be.' " As they rolled into the parking lot where they began the ride, the cheering support crew, who had set up camp for them every evening, greeted them as their goal had finally been accomplished.

The trip, which was five years in the making, was organized and supported by the Crested Butte Adaptive Sports Center, with funding from REI and beer donated by New Belgium Brewing. "We wouldn't have been able to do it without the team," said Ackerman. "It was so cool that I was out there, where Jeeps and mountain bikes go, and I wasn't in a Jeep."

Vogel doesn't like being a spectator, either. He was a professional freestyle skier before a 1985 accident paralyzed him from the waist down. Mountain biking was starting to gain popularity at the time, and now, with the handcylcles, he can finally see what the sport is all about.

"Riding the handcycle on the trails is a way to hang my disability on the coat rack and just ride a bike," said Vogel. "It's magical."